


ivy

by atsunosukes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Falling Out of Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Marriage, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:41:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29632716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsunosukes/pseuds/atsunosukes
Summary: in which keiji and koutarou fall out of love, so keiji tries to find a new sort of love. and he sees it in miya osamu.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	ivy

**Author's Note:**

> based on taylor swift's song, ivy

The first year of marriage is always the happiest year, they say. It's a year where everything seems so right. Where everything seems to fall into place. Where you don't think anything would go downhill. It's magic. It's wonderful. It's perfect.

Keiji had thought that it’s nonsense. Call him a hopeless romantic, if you will, but he believes that when a married couple truly loves each other, every year of marriage would be like the first, if not better. It'll be magic. It'll be wonderful. It'll be perfect.

But Keiji wakes up one day with a thought: when did everything change?

Momentarily, the sunlight filtering through his windows blinds Keiji a bit. He squints at the harsh light and rolls over on his side. A year ago, he would’ve been face to face with the sleeping form of his husband, with the golden light of the morning sun washing over his bare skin. He would’ve been pressing gentle kisses to the crook of his neck, the apples of his cheeks, to the softness of his lips.

He reminds himself that a year ago, he was in Osaka. Now, he’s in Tokyo.

Keiji reaches for his phone on the nightstand. A few weeks back, (or months? Keiji doesn't recall anymore) his phone would be bursting with 'good morning!' messages, sometimes coupled with an occasional selfie. He clicks it open and he sees no notification bubbles on the lock screen - nothing obstructing his view of him and Koutarou smiling at each other with the sunset in the background. It's a simple photo, but it's Keiji's favorite. He remembered gushing at the wedding photographer that day the photo was taken. "You captured even the love in our eyes."

He toys a bit with the ring sitting on his finger. _When did everything change?_

Did it change the moment he moved back to Tokyo because the daily bullet train ride from Osaka to Tokyo and back again to go to work deemed too much for their expenses? Did it change when the both of them thought that they would handle the distance with promises of visiting each other "every week."? Did it change when "every week" became "sorry, something came up. I'll make it up to you."? Or when "Sorry, something came up. I'll make it up to you," became, "I'll see."

Typing out a short, "good morning" to his husband, he rolls out of bed to start the day.

It's almost lunch time when he receives a reply. “Morning,” it says. He sighs. It's too late for a good morning message.

* * *

10 PM seems to be too late for onigiri, and it's bizarre that he craves it at this late time. Especially when he ate dinner thirty minutes ago at that ramen shop a block away.

It's equally bizarre that Onigiri Miya's _still_ open at this hour.

A familiar face greets him from behind the counter when he walks in. "Welcome to – Akaashi-san?"

His eyes widen behind his glasses but it softens immediately and he gives him a wave. "Oh, hello, Miya-san."

"What a nice surprise," Miya Osamu says. He leans on his elbows as Keiji approaches the counter. "So, whadd’ya want to order?"

Akaashi hums as he looks up at the large menu behind Osamu. "I'm thinking of a tuna mayo onigiri."

"Comin' right up."

Keiji settles in the seat in front of the counter and waits.

Miya Osamu finally opened that Tokyo branch he's been thinking of opening two years ago. Keiji had been so excited on opening day that he was one of the first customers that Onigiri Miya Tokyo had served. He even got a freebie that day - a plastic bento box perfect for onigiri-to-go. He still uses it to store his packed lunch when he goes to work.

He looks back at the humble beginnings of Onigiri Miya. How it opened as a small shop in Osaka, to setting up small kiosks in sports centers until it expanded to include a brand-new Tokyo branch. Now, Onigiri Miya is an up and rising onigiri shops visited by locals and sought after by tourists.

Keiji smiles at the thought. He deserves it.

Osamu's hard at work behind the counter, brows furrowed in concentration as he meticulously prepares filling and packs it down between rice. This is one of the things that Keiji appreciates about Onigiri Miya's service - fresh onigiri guaranteed every time. "I wouldn't be caught dead reheating onigiri," Osamu had said one day when Keiji had asked him how they make their onigiri taste good. "If customers had to wait ten, fifteen minutes for their onigiri to come out fresh, they have to. There'll be no reheating in this establishment, no sir."

“Didn’t thought I’d see you here at this hour,” Osamu suddenly says, pulling him out of his thoughts. Keiji sighs and places his chin in his hand. "I'm surprised you're still open," he replies.

Osamu pauses his work and smirks at Keiji from behind the counter. “Never know if someone would have late night cravings.”

“Your intuition is right, then.”

A few minutes later, a plate with two servings of tuna mayo onigiri is placed in front of him. Keiji’s eyes widen. “I just ordered one.”

Osamu settles in the seat next to him after he serves him his food. “The other one’s on the house, Akaashi-san, you look like you’re starving.”

“I suppose I do,” Keiji sighs, taking an onigiri from the plate. “I hardly ate anything for dinner half an hour ago.” A beat. He remembered pushing around the ramen noodles in his bowl when he finally went out for dinner. He remembered spending more time checking his phone for any new message than eating. “Lost my appetite, I guess.”

“You okay?”

Keiji doesn't answer and finishes the onigiri in his hand in one bite. When he looks at Osamu, he sees his eyes soften in concern.

_Why is he reading him so damn well?_

They sit in an awkward silence for a while when Osamu asks, "D'you want to, y'know, talk it out?" Keiji shakes his head. Osamu just nods.

The onigiri on the plate disappears, bite by bite. Keiji is aware that Osamu’s eyes are on him as he eats, with that same softness that seems to say “I’m here for you.” His heart warms at the thought. Miya Osamu may be a man of few words, but it’s his actions that speak for him.

The silence doesn’t seem so awkward anymore.

Keiji stares at the last morsel of onigiri in his hand. He sighs before pushing it into his mouth and swallowing. He takes the glass of service water and drinks it slowly, drop by drop.

“Thanks for the meal,” he mumbles, setting down the glass and staring at the empty plate in front of him. Osamu sighs and takes his plate away. “No problem, Akaashi-san.”

Keiji clicks his phone open when Osamu disappears behind the counter to wash the dishes. It’s only then that he sees the time: 22:59. Ah, and his lock screen still displays his wallpaper, smiling faces almost mocking him.

_It’s late, and you haven’t gotten a single message apart from the one he sent this morning._

Keiji’s seat scrapes across the floor as he stands. He winces at the sound.

“Uh, Miya-san?” he calls out. “Yeah?” floats out from behind the counter.

The words feel heavy on his tongue, but he says it anyway. “I’m heading home now, it’s late.”

A pause. “Okay!” Osamu replies.

“Thanks again!”

“No problem! I hope you visit again!”

It sounds like an invitation. Keiji unknowingly smiles to himself as he takes slow, deliberate steps toward the door. When he leaves, he doesn't know why, but he hesitated.

* * *

He comes at closing time the next night, and the next nights after, at a time where prying eyes don't see him coming and going to buy onigiri in the guise of seeing Miya Osamu again.

Keiji doesn’t get it himself. Why away from prying eyes? Why is he making an excuse to see Miya Osamu again?

Aren’t they friends? Friends can see each other from time to time, right?

_Friends. Is that the right word?_

"I had a dream," he tells him in one of their nights together in the darkness of the now-closed Onigiri Miya. It’s the first time he ever opened up to Osamu after nights of silent meals with occasional chatter about work and business, all while avoiding the topic of his husband. "A dream where Koutarou forgot to wear his ring.” Keiji sighs as he looks at his empty plate. “I know that he never forgets to take it with him… he even wears it in a chain around his neck when he has a game. And now... what does it mean?"

"That should hurt," Osamu says. "It does," Keiji replies. His hand touches his finger where his own ring should be, but instead he's met with warm skin in place of a cool metal.

He gasps softly. Did his dream affect him so much that he also forgot to wear his own ring?

Thus, begins a cycle. His loneliness egging him on to trace back the familiar steps to Onigiri Miya. Miya Osamu serving him onigiri and listening to him and filling his loneliness. Once it's too dark out, he bids Miya Osamu good bye as he walks hesitant steps back to his apartment to a cold bed that doesn't seem as cold as other nights. Rinse and repeat.

He thinks, this is something new. There’s something about Miya Osamu that makes him gravitate toward him. Something that makes him want to let Osamu engulf him in his presence, covering every inch of his being with his essence. Something that makes him want to forget the late good morning messages, occasional wishes of good night, empty promises to visit, just to make him remember certain invitations to see each other again for another night.

Maybe it’s the way his loneliness seems to fit in the palm of Osamu’s hand perfectly. The way he takes it away for a night and makes him forget he was ever lonely in the first place. The way he takes it away so much that the loneliness starts to leave him bit by bit every night.

Perhaps this is what Miya Osamu is also thinking, when one night in the darkness of the long-closed Onigiri Miya, he pushes aside all boundaries to pull him in for a kiss.

This is a new kind of kiss. A new kind of love. One that only Miya Osamu can offer. But this, this is a new kind of love that must not be felt. Not now. Not while _he's_ around.

"Leave him," Osamu tempts against his lips. "Be with me instead."

However, there’s nothing wrong with indulging oneself every once in a while.

And so Keiji does, meeting his lips with Osamu’s again, mouth moving slowly against his, savoring the new taste on his tongue.

For a while, he lets himself forget he was ever Koutarou’s. Maybe, just for tonight, he’d lower his pride and tell himself he’s Osamu’s.

* * *

Keiji wakes one day and thinks, when did everything change?

By habit, he turns to look over to the sleeping figure beside him and touches their bare skin, tracing small patterns upon it. When the man doesn’t wake, he runs his fingers through his ash gray hair, rubbing his fingers on his scalp.

He must be tired, Keiji thinks. He resigns to pressing a soft kiss on Osamu’s forehead before sinking back into his pillow to stare at the ceiling.

Koutarou's the one that bought this apartment a year ago. It’s for Keiji’s convenience since his work is still based in Tokyo – and it’s too expensive to travel from Osaka to Tokyo and back again. Keiji had offered one day that he’ll just find work in Osaka, but Koutarou had insisted that he stay in his workplace. He knows how much he loves working as an editor, so he just bought him an apartment in Tokyo instead.

It’s going to be their own little space in Tokyo, Koutarou had said. When they meet each other, they’ll forget all life’s troubles and stay here in their little nook, in the middle of their hometown. They’ll go to the places that they had frequented when they were still dating, make new memories in Tokyo in place of the old ones.

Keiji wanted to laugh. When did everything change?

He looks at Osamu, who sticks out like a sore thumb in a place that Keiji and Koutarou had called their own. He wanted to melt at how gorgeous Osamu looks under the first sunrays, but he remembers he doesn’t belong here. He’s ivy slowly creeping on the walls of a place where he isn’t supposed to grow in.

And Keiji lets him do so. He lets him do so until it’s covered completely, until every trace of what Koutarou owns, is lost under the thicket.

What would they do if Koutarou discovers that what once was his is engulfed completely by something undesirable, something that shouldn’t be there?

He’s going to burn everything to the ground. Him and Osamu included.

Keiji’s phone rings on the nightstand. He reaches over to take it and takes a look at the caller ID.

 _Koutarou_.

A hesitant finger presses the green “pick up” button. “Hello?”

“Hey, Keiji. ‘M gonna visit you, are you going to be free?”

He takes a glance at Osamu, peacefully sleeping beside him. His fingers tangle itself in Osamu’s hair. “No, sorry. Things are getting busy… I have a deadline to catch up on.”

“Ah, it’s alright. Maybe another time then.”

He nods. “Yeah, another time.”

Silence at the end of the line. Then, a sigh. “I miss you.”

“Yeah.” _Wouldn’t be the appropriate reply is ‘I miss you too?’_

“I… I love you.”

Keiji hums. “And I, you.” _Not ‘I love you, too.’_

The call drops. Keiji has never heard a more comfortable silence before.

In the silence, as Keiji sinks into the covers and embraces Osamu’s sleeping body, perhaps he found his answer.

Maybe everything changed when he realized that he’s in need of a new kind of love. A new kind of love that only Miya Osamu can offer.


End file.
